


夏 (summer)

by dwyndling



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: All ships are implied however you want them to be, Arguably Canon Compliant, Cloud Strife's Birthday 2020, Cloud-centric, During Canon, Gen, Introspection, Loneliness, beach parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 11:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25848727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwyndling/pseuds/dwyndling
Summary: Not alone. Not anymore.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	夏 (summer)

**Author's Note:**

> Cloud Strife. Where do I begin with Cloud Strife. This character means a lot to me, more than I know how to express. His journey, his temperament, his tendencies, they all come together to form someone who I find incredibly relatable, and a greatly compelling protagonist for the journey that is FFVII. It didn't feel right to /not/ write something for his birthday, so please accept my small contribution for this wonderful character. ♡

The sky shines a pale baby blue, the color of sea at midday, and certain ice cream flavors. The sea reflects the pale baby blue of the sky, crisp and clean and pearly white where it rises and dips over the golden sand.

It wanders up nearly far enough to drench Cloud’s toes in it’s brine, but not quite. He’s warm and dry where he lays face up in the sand, the salt water having matted his hair and clung to his skin, but the sun has driven away all traces of wetness.

It must be nearly midday, to be so bright. Perhaps not quite, as the sun seems to still have some paces to go before it reaches its zenith. They had come down to the beach before it had even risen, so it stands to reason that the day is still early. 

The wind whistles over his bared shoulders, the sea breeze carrying the scent of salt and it’s own unique tang. Gulls cry out from far above, and in the back of Cloud’s mind he wonders what it is they’re calling to each other. The direct sunlight must be making him drowsy, to think of such nonsensical things.

_A boy of ten summers sits alone in his room. There are the sounds of fellow children on the dirt road outside, words loud and unfiltered as their play carries them along the way. His window is cracked open, enough to let the summer wind in, and by association the chime of youthful voices._

_His eye twitches, and he attempts to return to the book he was reading. Their noise is distracting, and with a huff of annoyance, he leans over and clicks the window shut with perhaps slightly more force than necessary._

_They are not his friends. It’s weird to keep listening in on their adventures anyway._

“I’m amazed you’re not glowing red like a summon materia right now.”

Cloud cracks one eye open, and looks up to where Tifa is smiling down at him. “It was shady when I came out here.”

She laughs, loud and carefree. “Sit up mister, before you turn into a lobster.”

With minimal reticence, Cloud forces himself upright, and allows Tifa to slather what she deems to be an acceptable amount of sun lotion onto his fair shoulders and back. She’s quick about it, but the feeling of hands on his skin is enough to drag him out of his thoughts and back into the heat of the morning, even if just for a moment.

At the very least until Tifa takes off, chasing a giggling Aerith down with the bottle of sun lotion. It brings a smile over his face to see them, but the sunlight quickly lulls him back into the odd and dreamy space of half-slumber.

_Light and shade, quickly reweaving themselves to fit a different image. A boy of eleven summers sits at the kitchen table, alone, eating the bread and soup his mother had left in the ice box for him. She’s out of town, gone to check in on one of the more reclusive villagers who lives up in the mountains._

_Despite the fact he’s still very much in it, the small house feels completely empty. Shadows flicker in the corners, and the kitchen lamp cannot chase the night away all on it’s own._

_It’s hard to sleep that night, without the background noise of his mother bustling around and setting the small house to rest._

“Do you think he’s asleep?” There’s a gentle poke to the curve of his shoulder.

“Shh!! If he is, don’t wake him!”

“We could dump sea-water on him?” 

“I thought you lost the bucket when-”

Cloud sighs, and the two chirping voices immediately clam up. “I can hear you, you know.”

Muffled giggling is his only response, and he opens his eyes to see Aerith proffering him a stick of pale blue ice cream in apology. “You almost slept through lunch, Cloud!”

Yuffie makes a face at him, as if to see if she can get a reaction. “But lucky for you, we saved you dessert.” 

He takes the ice cream, a little dubiously due to the cheshire cat grins on both their faces, but when he tastes it, there is no unpleasant surprise. It’s merely the salty sweetness of the ice cream sold in the hotel in town.

Cold bursts across his tongue, and the juxtaposition of that with the heat of the sun cements his wakefulness. 

_A boy of barely twelve summers sits in the shade of the water tower, cradling a book in his lap. The other village children are playing a game involving sticks and a ball, one he hasn’t bothered to figure out the mechanics of. It’s not like they’re going to invite him to join them._

_It’s not like he would accept._

_The afternoon drags on, as the cheerful clamor keeps drawing his attention away from the words on the page. After a while, it becomes so unbearable that he snaps the book shut, not even bothering to check what page he was on before marching off in the direction of home._

_A lone voice calls after him, plaintive and high pitched. He ignores her, shutting his ears to the very thought of it._

_It’s not like they actually want him there._

The sun has tucked itself away on the other side of the mountains, leaving the late afternoon to be covered with a blissful blanket of shade. The party has congregated closer to the beach house they rented, some sitting on the porch that overlooks the sandbar, and others digging out a volleyball net that Yuffie found in one of the closets. 

Nanaki is dozing, tail held safely above the wood of the porch even as he drifts off. Cloud can’t quite tell if Vincent is the same or not, since the man is either watching the volleyball game below them with incredible scrutiny, or napping with his eyes open.

It’s a miracle that anyone could sleep through Yuffie’s turn at being a referee, but Nanaki is certainly managing it. The game below is Aerith and Tifa versus Barret and Cid, and considering Tifa’s speed and accuracy, and Aerith’s indomitable determination to win, the game seems set in stone at this point. 

Cloud cheers when either team scores a point, despite his attention being mostly on the shimmering and shifting colors of the Costa del Sol sunset. Bright clear blue has flickered to pale blue-grey, which shifts into rosy pinks and stunning violets. The sun on the other side of the mountains is still visible as a golden smudge at the base of the sky, even as stars begin to showcase themselves far above.

When the moon reveals itself as well, glimmering merrily across the way from the still-smoldering sun, some weight releases itself, some burden falls away from across the set of his shoulders. Cloud exhales, and the world _sings_ with color and light. 

The voices of his friends chime out around him, like birdsong. A lullaby, one bursting with life and warmth.

_Something soft, like plumage, brushes against his side. He shifts, instinctively curling towards the touch. Feathers, whiteblackgrey, pressed against his side. There is silence in the holy place._

_“You should hurry and get up. Don’t want to keep them waiting.” The voice carries a smile with it. Something fond and doting, something familiar._

_A flash of dark hair, and mako-green eyes. A blurred image which feels as though it should mean more than the feather-light tug it produces in his chest._

_“Cloud. Wake up.”_

Cloud awakens, to the touch of Aerith’s hand on his shoulder, and Barret’s stentorian laugh echoing out of the kitchen. Yuffie’s bright voice chimes in, and even Vincent’s raspy chuckle can be heard. 

“We made you a cake.” Aerith whispers, green eyes sparkling. “Tifa told us what day it was.”

He stiffens, and suddenly he’s not in a beach house in Costa del Sol anymore, but instead-

_“It’s your thirteenth birthday! Of course you have a reason to smile.”_

_His mother smiles down at him, and the well glazed cake sitting on the table between them. Thirteen candles light up the top in a circle, a radiant crown of humble fire. It’s a small house, and there’s only two of them, but somehow the birthday candles manage to light up the whole kitchen with their brilliance._

_“Remember to make a wish, Cloud.”_

_His wish that year…_

It’s odd to think about, as the cheer and merriment continues into the evening. Laughter, and the sweetness of cake blur together into a singular flavor. Everyone insists on giving him a hug, and Tifa even gives him a teasing kiss on the forehead. The warmth of a summer evening becomes something much more.

_My wish._

_It was to not be alone anymore._

  
  



End file.
